


All This Time (We Were Waiting For Each Other)

by caramelle



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Canon Universe, F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-06-18 05:16:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15478467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caramelle/pseuds/caramelle
Summary: "We don't have a lot of time," she says, brushing dust off her pants as she jumps down onto the ground. "If you have something to say—""I heard you," he blurts out.She frowns, looking up. "What?"His heart kicks in his chest, thudding faster and harder against his ribcage."Your messages," he says, willing his voice to remain steady.Or, the one where Bellamy finally gets the 2,199 messages he'd missed.





	All This Time (We Were Waiting For Each Other)

**Author's Note:**

> _BFF prompt: I need something from Bellamy's POV of Raven somehow uncovering an archive of all the calls Clarke made to him and him listening to everything and confront Clarke about it. Just fuck me up, please._
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> i just wanna say i DON'T think it's possible, either in real life or in the show, that Clarke's radio calls would have been preserved in any way??? but, well. that's why we have fic, lmao
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> (title from "All This Time" by OneRepublic)

  
  
  


"I can't explain it. Just come right away."

 

Bellamy's shoulders stiffen, his feet quickening their already brisk pace at the memory of Raven's terse tone over the walkie. That's nothing new, really. She's always terse. They're all on edge—as seems to be their fate as long as they're on the ground, really—but the lack of information in Raven's message is making him extra antsy. They're running out of time, and thanks to Echo's betrayal and last-second side-switching, if Raven and Monty don't figure out a way to hack into the Eligius ship's systems by sundown, they'll be out of options, too. (That is _so_ over, by the way. He never thought he'd say it, but he should have listened to his sister.)

 

But the loss of one of their space family will have to be processed later. There's too much going on right now, too much at stake. The longer they leave Octavia locked up, the longer she'll have to plot her own escape. Everyone from the bunker is temporarily united under the flame and the combined banner of Indra and Miller's leadership, but it's a gamble on how long that'll last. He's not even sure if Raven herself is at full capacity yet, she and the others having just returned to Polis barely twenty-four hours ago, along with Kane, a badly wounded Diyoza, Madi and—

 

The rhythm of his feet stutters, just for a second. Quickly recovering, he resumes his stride and covers up the falter in his expression as best as he can, even if no one's really paying attention to him as he passes by.

 

He doesn't let himself think about whether he'd been expecting her to return, regardless of Madi's choice to do so. He doesn't let himself think about whether he'd even been expecting to _see_ her again, much less so soon.

 

He doesn't let himself think about whether he'd even _wanted_ to.

 

No time, no time for that.

 

He pushes into the dilapidated ruins that they've haphazardly set up as an operations base, nodding at Harper as she passes on her way out. Weirdly enough, she doesn't quite manage to hold his gaze, nodding quickly as her face crumples into something he can't quite identify before ducking out of sight and hurrying on her way, arms full of gear.

 

Shaking his head, he moves on, pushing through the creaky door to head inside.

 

"All right, I'm here," he announces as he closes the door behind him. It doesn't fit right on the frame, having been hastily affixed to the hinges to replace the original battered-down door, but it'll do enough to keep most of their conversation from leaking out. He's not sure he wants everybody overhearing what the next big crisis is before he's had a chance to understand it. "What's the emergency?"

 

Raven turns in her chair to face him, Monty shuffling on the spot next to her. "It's not an emergency," she says slowly, meeting his gaze directly. "It's...just something we thought you should see." She glances at Monty. "Well, not that you should _see_ it. Just—uh—"

 

"We decided to use Clar—I mean, the radio Madi brought us," Monty rushes out, exchanging a quick glance with Raven at his minor slip-up. "We hooked it up to ours to try and boost the signal, and we were in the middle of trying to dig our way a little deeper into the Eligius database, but it was a different frequency so we ended up finding..."

 

The silence that swells up in the wake of Monty's unfinished sentence has Bellamy tensing. He takes two steps towards them. "Finding what?" he prompts, his brows drawing together. The last thing they need right now is _another_ problem, but judging from their track record, it would be exactly what they'd get at a time like this.

 

Raven throws him a strange look—half frustrated, half despairing, all with a definite dash of concerned. "Look," she says, leaning forward to hit a few keys, "maybe it's better if you just listen."

 

Bellamy frowns, thoroughly unused to an evasive Raven, but steps up to the worktable anyway and concentrates on the static that pours from the speakers. It dissipates after a few beats and a voice breaks through, crackled but clear, and every cell in his body goes completely still.

 

_"... in Becca's lab. It's not exactly equipped for a nuclear apocalypse, but I think I can make it work for the next few months. At any rate, I'll take five years of canned food over the algae you'll have to make do with. Ha, don't tell Monty I said that. I bet you wish we could do a trade, huh? My expired beans for—"_

 

Another burst of static cuts into the message, and Raven punches her enter key.

 

_"... upper levels for the first time today. The air's still not great, so I only lasted about a half hour even with an oxygen mask—thank you again, Becca—but you know what, it was worth another round of radiation sickness. You'd probably kill me for saying that, but I think I needed to get out of the basement, really remind myself that the world's still here, that I'm still here—"_

 

Enter key.

 

_"... sorry. Ignore me, okay? I haven't had water in two days. I need to find some soon, or I don't think I'm gonna—anyway. I doubt you can hear me on this piece of crap radio. But in case this is the last time I get to do this, I just want to say… Please don't feel bad about leaving me here. You did what you had to do. I'm proud—"_

 

 _"... myself that every life I took was for a reason, but the truth is, the other side had reasons, too._ _The Grounders, the Mountain Men, even A.L.I.E. Their reasons to want us dead were the same as ours. It was us or them, kill or be killed, simple as that. So what now? What becomes of the Commander of Death when there's no one left to kill? I guess we'll find out because my fight is over. The question is—"_

 

_"... till you see this place. It's like the death wave jumped over the entire valley. Unfortunately, the radiation didn't. I've lost track of how many bodies we've burned since reaching the ground. God, this would be so much easier if I knew you were alive. If I knew I was gonna see you again—"_

 

Static fills the silence, the last vestiges of Clarke's voice seeming to echo throughout the room, bouncing off the cracked, worn walls and slamming into him over and over again. An endless wave without shape or form, crashing against his senses and roaring in his ears with an indefinable, indescribable force.

 

"Bellamy?"

 

He blinks, his eyes focusing on Monty through the foggy haze that's developed over his vision. "What?"

 

Monty exchanges a look with Raven that makes him think it's not the first time they've attempted to get his attention.

 

"There's more," he says at last, his tone careful. "A lot more. But we didn't think—well, we just thought you'd—"

 

"We can give you the room," Raven cuts in lowly, her gaze trained on his shoulder. "I mean, we were done anyway. We can go check on how the others are doing, come back in a bit."

 

He shouldn't. There's a war brewing out there. They have to stop it before someone lights it on fire. They have a million things to do before Murphy and Emori get back from their scouting mission. He needs to meet with Indra and Miller before the Wonkru leaders convene. He needs to check on Madi, and—

 

He nods mutely.

 

They file past him, Monty pressing his hand to Bellamy's shoulder for a brief moment before moving away. Once the door closes behind them, Bellamy half staggers, half stumbles over to the computer, dropping gracelessly into Raven's vacated seat and blindly hitting the enter key.

 

The static crackles on for a few seconds, and then gives way to Clarke's voice.

 

_"... out of control, so I have to be careful with the fires. Speaking of fires, is it weird that I miss Murphy's cooking? Murphy can cook, did you know that? You should get him to help Monty with the food. He could be your resident chef, although I'm not sure Raven would trust him not to poison you all, ha. I hope they're getting along okay up there. Okay, fine, they're probably giving you hell, but you can handle it. You—"_

 

The track cuts off on its own, static readily swelling up to take its place. He takes a deep breath, and hits the enter key again to load up the next message.

 

_"... really smart, it's easy to see why she's survived on her own for as long as she has. She's still a little jumpy, but I really can't blame her for that. She's still just a kid; it's probably not something she's gonna grow out of in just six months. Anyway, she's got these big eyes and I don't think she's ever used a hairbrush in her life, but she's the most beautiful little girl I've ever seen. She's also really good with a spear, you'd be jealous of—"_

 

_"... and then we spent the whole night hiding out by the viewport, sharing the booze and telling each other what we'd do if we ever got the chance to go to the ground. It was—it was one of the best nights of my life. Sorry, I don't mean to sniffle throughout this entire thing. I—I just miss Wells, so much. He would have loved this valley. He always loved Earth like no one else I've ever known. God, we used to get so competitive in Earth Skills class, it would drive Pike up the wall—"_

 

_"... just felt so helpless. I just don't know what to say to her anymore. I know literally nothing about kids. How do you stop them from being mad at you? Ugh. Maybe I should just draw a line across the entire valley and divide it up between me and her. That's only half a joke, you know. God, I wish you were here to tell me what to do. You'd be so much better at this than I—"_

 

_"... have stayed in Polis. This is probably stupid. You probably don't even remember that anymore. I—I don't know why I still think about it, but I just do. I wish I could have told you how much I wanted to go with you. If I had the chance to do it all over again, I think I'd… well, there's no point saying stuff like that now, is there? I did what I did, and I have to live with it. We both do. There's so much that I—"_

 

_"... these stars. God, I don't even remember the last time I felt like this just staring at the stars. This kind of peace. It's weird. I guess we're just not that used to the feeling, are we? But I like doing it anyway. I like looking up, and knowing you're up there somewhere. Madi used to ask me all these questions whenever she caught me staring. Thank God she's grown out of that. I taught her about Oppenheimer the other day, and she—"_

 

_"... so mad at you. I could have strangled you right there in that room, right in front of Lexa and all those grounder chiefs if they didn't all have their swords pointed at you. I hate that you always do that, throwing yourself into danger without a second thought just to protect us. To protect me. I especially hated when you told me you wanted to go into Mount Weather. But if I'm being totally honest, it was completely selfish of—"_

 

_"... never felt like home. Not as much as our stupid, messy little camp at the dropship did. Is that weird? It's probably weird. I really don't think Raven or Monty or Harper would agree, at least. Ha. It's dumb, I guess, but it's also the first time I ever really felt like I had a place of my own. One that I helped create and build. A family to share it with, one that stuck together instead of keeping things from each other. Sometimes I think it would have been better if the Ark had never—"_

 

_"... each other on the Ark? I picture it sometimes, you know. I'll be honest, I didn't really know that many people outside of Alpha and Go-Sci. Ha, you probably would have hated that. You probably would have hated me. Hell, you did hate me when we first met. It's actually funny to think of it now, to think of a time when I didn't—when we weren't—well, when we weren't on each other's side, I guess. Do you think—"_

 

He can't see anymore, the tears welling up in his eyes making everything blurry.

 

_"... wanted to shake you for saying that. I don't know why, but right there, on the lake, it felt like you were giving up on—fuck. I don't know. I just couldn't bear the thought of us not seeing each other again and—"_

 

_"... to be happy. Now that I think about it, I don't know if that was ever in the cards for us. Not as long as we were surrounded by grounders and apocalypses, at least. But I can't hold on to—"_

 

_"... else to say. I just—I just wish you were here. And Raven, of course. Monty. Harper. God, even Murphy. But you most of—"_

 

_"... don't even know if you're alive. God. Please be alive. I don't know what I'd do if—"_

 

_"... never got to thank you for that. I never really got to thank you for a lot of things, but—"_

 

_"... don't know why I still do this every day. Maybe it's my way of staying sane, not forgetting who I—"_

 

The misfit door hangs on its loose hinges, and static plays to an empty room.

 

 

* * *

 

 

"... as soon as Indra and Miller get here. Do you hear me?"

 

"Yes, Clarke, I hear you."

 

"I'm not kidding around, Madi. This is for real. If we don't stay ahead of this, we—"

 

Clarke looks up before he can even reach them, her brows knitting together as she reads his face and body language within a split second. He maintains his pace as she turns back to Madi, and over the roaring in his ears, he faintly picks up on her voice telling the younger girl to go ahead without her.

 

Madi shoots him a friendly but questioning look as she passes him by. He summons up a tight smile in response and nods without breaking stride, hoping that will be enough to stay the little Commander's silent queries for now, and keeps moving towards Clarke.

 

"We need to talk," he says. It comes out a little harsher than he intends, but he can't quite care.

 

Clarke's eye barely meets his, glancing off his jaw before swivelling away. "I need to go check on the rover's power levels. The solar panels—"

 

"I'll go with you," he says immediately.

 

There's an awkward beat of hesitation from Clarke, but she nods and turns to lead the way to the rover, setting a pace that's slightly more subdued than her usual brisk manner. Like she's reluctant to get to her destination.

 

He clears his throat, glancing over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of Madi's long braids disappearing from view. "How is she?" he ventures.

 

Clarke's shoulders stiffen slightly. "Fine," she says, her voice strained. "I mean, aside from the constant nightmares and visions. And the fact that she barely talks like herself anymore. But other than that, she's physically fine."

 

He flinches slightly, taking in the information. Nightmares? Visions? Wasn't this thing supposed to be safe? Had the grounders just been sticking it into Commanders' heads for a hundred years without a second thought about the repercussions on their leaders' welfare?

 

"We—we'll get it out of her," he promises roughly. "As soon as this whole thing is over, we—"

 

"I know," she says, and he tracks her gaze moving over a trio of grounder warriors passing by, their arms loaded with weapons, faces and armour painted over in white with the symbol of the Flame. She swallows, and quickens her pace slightly, eyes forward. "This is necessary. For now."

 

He frowns. It's not outright agreement on her part, but it's _something._ To be honest, he's just surprised he's not currently getting an earful or, at the very least, the silent treatment. Their interactions before she first left with Madi two days ago hadn't given him a lot of hope that she'd be open to speaking rationally and reasonably, but something must have happened to change her mind.

 

"You're doing what has to be done to save us all," he says at last. "Like you always have."

 

Her gaze flicks towards him. _"I'm_ not saving anyone," she says shortly, before veering off towards the rover as it comes into view behind a heaping pile of rubble.

 

"We should make this quick," she announces as she pulls ahead of him, flinging the back doors of the rover open. "The meeting's starting soon."

 

He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, watching her pull out the small toolkit Raven had put together all those years ago for quick fixes on the rover. It's plenty worn and half its contents are well on their way to rusting over, but Clarke's clearly managed to make it work.

 

She reaches up above her head to shove the heavy dome door open, pulling herself up through the circular opening to land on the roof of the rover. She moves smoothly, with the familiar ease of someone who's done this a thousand times before. Once she's settled in a low crouch on top of the vehicle with a screwdriver dug into the side of a solar panel, she glances at him. "What?"

 

He closes his half-open mouth. The last time they'd both come out to check on the rover's solar panels over six years ago, their positions had been reversed. Clarke hadn't even known how to adjust the fixtures until he'd showed her. "I just—nothing."

 

She shoots him a dry look, moving on to the next panel. "I know how to tighten the panels, Bellamy."

 

An inexplicable warmth leaks through in his chest, not just at an unexpected but welcome moment of humour between them, but also the confirmation that he's not alone in his thoughts and memories.

 

"I can see that," he says, his mouth curving sideways. "Someone must've taught you well."

 

"Someone _else_ must've taught _him_ well," she retorts, and both of them break into small smiles—it's exactly what Raven would say if she were part of this exchange.

 

Too soon, Clarke seems to remember herself, her smile freezing in place before disappearing altogether as she ducks her head low in a concerted attempt at scrutinising a panel edge. They fall back into silence, one that stretches on awkwardly for a long moment, punctuated only by the taps of Clarke's screwdriver against the rover.

 

He takes a deep breath, willing himself to grab hold of the words bouncing about in his head and speak them out loud.

 

"Madi likes you."

 

He blinks, his surprise giving way to a wry smile. "I like her too."

 

"She trusts you." Her eyes flit up, away from the panel to meet his. "She doesn't do that a lot."

 

He shrugs. "Can't blame her for that." He places his hands on his hips, Clarke's tinnily recorded voice echoing in his mind. "She's still just a kid. She's not gonna grow out of it within the first week of meeting all these new people."

 

Clarke looks at him strangely, her brow furrowing as if in recognition. Her mouth opens and closes—and then she looks away, snatching up the toolkit and moving back over to the open dome door.

 

"We don't have a lot of time," she says, before dropping through the opening to land in the rover. She emerges from the back a few moments later, brushing dust off her pants as she jumps down onto the ground. "If you have something to say—"

 

"I heard you," he blurts out.

 

She frowns, looking up. "What?"

 

His heart kicks in his chest, thudding faster and harder against his ribcage.

 

"Your messages," he says, willing his voice to remain steady. "All the calls you made on the radio—"

 

Clarke's face pales, some of the colour draining from her cheeks. "How did you find—"

 

He shakes his head. It doesn't matter _how._ "That's not what I want to talk about."

 

She appears to grapple with herself for a bit, and then she presses her lips together, tearing her gaze from his. "Okay, well, is now really the time? Because we have—"

 

"In about six hours, we're all gonna be either dead or running for our lives," he cuts in firmly, not taking his eyes off her. "And I remember what happened to us the last time we decided to postpone a conversation. So, yeah, I'd say now is the time."

 

She hesitates, and then shakes her head, turning away to close one of the rover back doors. "There's nothing to talk about. I tried for six years to make contact from the ground. It never worked. That's all."

 

"But it's not," he says, his arm shooting out to grab hold of the second door, holding it in place when she tries to pull it shut. "I listened to your messages, Clarke. Not all of them, but enough. You were—" He swallows hard on the lump rising in his throat. "You sent me over _two thousand messages."_

 

Clarke stills, her hand curled around the rover door. "Two thousand, one hundred and ninety nine," she says quietly, her gaze trained on her hand. The very sound of her muted, sombre tone fissures something inside him.

 

He steps a little closer, but she still doesn't meet his eye. "You weren't just trying to make contact. You could have just hailed us, over and over. But you _didn't._ You were _talking._ You were talking to _me—"_

 

She makes a small sound in the back of her throat, casting around as if frustrated. "I was—I was talking to _all_ of you. Everyone—"

 

"So why didn't you ever say anything to _them?"_ he persists. "Every single one of those messages, you _always_ talked like you were speaking directly to _me—"_

 

"Yeah, I was!" she cries. "I was talking to you because that's who I wanted to talk to, Bellamy! Because that's who I _needed_ to talk to! Before this goddamn death wave ever even happened I spent all my time on the ground feeling so scared, _so_ fucking tired of having to _try_ all the time, but for some reason, _none_ of that ever really mattered when we were together. But then we _weren't,_ and all of a sudden I had a _kid_ to take care of, and you _know_ I didn't know anything about bringing up a _kid,_ and I was alone and confused and so fucking afraid of fucking it up, and _I needed my best friend!"_

 

She breaks off, her body heaving with the effort to draw in oxygen in the wake of her outburst, but before she can step back, he reaches out to wrap both his arms around her, pulling her into him as hard as he can.

 

"I'm here," he mutters, pressing closer as her body shakes with dry, soundless sobs, one hand cupping the back of her head as the other locks around her back. "I'm here now. I'm here."

 

Her hands clutch at the back of his jacket, her face buried into his shoulder as she gasps to take in enough air—no, to take in enough of _him,_ he realises as she turns even deeper into his neck, her forehead pressed flat to his chest. He holds her as tightly as she holds on to him, both of them wrapping around each other like they can't possibly get close enough, and, _God, this_ is the void he's been acutely aware of between them the last few days. The one he'd thought he managed to fill up over six years in space, but with just five words from a child— _"Clarke knew you would come"_ —told him loud and clear that despite whatever he'd told himself to get through another day in space, that void had never gone anywhere within him, never really changed its shape or form in any way.

 

The sobs have left Clarke's body, but she's still quivering slightly in his arms, and it takes him a few beats to realise that it's because she's holding on to him so tightly that the force of her grasp is wracking through her own body. It takes him another beat to realise that she's speaking, mumbling words into his chest that become clearer with every reiteration: _I'm sorry._

 

"Clarke," he breathes brokenly, his fingers curling into her hair. "I'm sorry, too."

 

She shakes her head against his shoulder. "No, I—" She pauses for a long moment, and then lifts her head from his chest. "What I did to you, the way I left. You didn't deserve that."

 

He chuckles half-heartedly, his arms tightening reflexively when she tries to step back, unwilling to give the distance that had been dividing them ever since they'd reunited the slightest chance of re-establishing itself. "I probably could have done a better job with explaining the plan to you."

 

She shakes her head again, more vehemently. "No. You were right. This is the best way to avoid spilling even more blood. There's already been too much of that. You were right, and I was too caught up in Madi to see that."

 

He frowns, his hands smoothing over her arms and cupping over her elbows, keeping her close.  "Everything you did for the last six years was to protect her. You're not wrong to want to keep her safe."

 

"But I _was_ wrong to _only_ want that," she says. "I spent all this time just thinking about Madi, and I haven't even tried to see things from anyone else's point of view, not even hers. It worked when she and I were the only two people on the ground, but we're not anymore, and I'm—"

 

"Not alone," he reminds her, catching her gaze and holding it. "Not anymore. None of us are, okay? We're doing this together again."

 

Her eyes meet his, and for the first time since coming back to the ground, it feels like he's finally seeing the real Clarke again.

 

"'Together again'," she repeats, a wry smile curving across her mouth. "Practically the title of our joint biography by now."

 

He shrugs, grinning. "Yeah, well, if I had to have a joint biography, there's no one else I'd do it with."

 

She huffs a small laugh, stepping back from him with a perfunctory wipe at her shining eyes. "We'd have to survive long enough first."

 

There're so many other things he wants to say to her. Questions he wants to ask her about the things she'd said in her two thousand, one hundred and ninety-nine radio messages. All the things they'd never really had the chance to talk about before Praimfaya, because they were always too busy trying to save their friends, their people, _themselves._ Feelings that they'd never let themselves feel, because they were always afraid of losing themselves in them.

 

If he's being honest with himself, he wants more out of this _thing_ with Clarke. Maybe he hasn't always _known_ it. Maybe he hasn't ever dared to acknowledge it, not even to himself. But if he's being _absolutely_ honest, he thinks he might have _always_ wanted more. More than just rushing to save their friends and family from yet another impending threat. More than just pushing their impulses and emotions deep down, setting them aside yet again for the good of their people. More than just endlessly racing against the clock, trying to beat some neverending countdown.

 

But for the first time in nearly seven years, since he'd first laid eyes on those sharp blue eyes, he feels like he has the time.

 

"We will," he promises, letting her move out of the circle of his arms with neither a protest nor a complaint, content for now to just feel the two of them slipping back into familiar rhythms with each other.

 

He knows it won't be enough, not forever. Probably not even for a while.

 

But just for now, it is.

 

**Author's Note:**

> anyway THIS IS WHAT SHOULD HAPPEN ON THE SHOW ASAP but like you know it's just my opinion
> 
> thoughts? feelings? drop me a kudos or tell me in a comment, I Want It All.mp3


End file.
